


A Plea from Broken Love

by TheUnemployedPhilosopher



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Little bit of angst, M/M, season 6 castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:17:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUnemployedPhilosopher/pseuds/TheUnemployedPhilosopher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stile's asks for help from a divine source, much to his surprise what he gets is a grumpy angel with no sense of humour.<br/>(Castiel gets called during season 6 of Supernatural because I already kind of miss angelcas).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The bottle of whiskey was innocent enough. It was unsuspecting, neutral, and certainly had Dean’s eye. In fact it had all of him moving towards it. 

After all, he did do a pretty fantastic job fighting off two vampires while Sam took out the Alpha tonight; he definitely deserved it. At least that’s what he thought. 

Apparently the perturbed angel now standing between him and his bottle of Jack had other ideas. 

Dean was ready to forgive Castiel before he heard a crash and leaned over to look at the now leaking bottle of booze. 

The accident had no affect on Cas who still stood rigid, watching Dean’s reactions with curiosity. 

Dean pursed his lips and made a defeated sigh as he leaned back and glared at the trenched coated form in front of him.

“Hope you got another bottle of whiskey hidden somewhere in that coat of yours Cas, ‘cause if not then you are permanently on my list of people I send chain mail to.”

The angel squinted and shuffled his feet a bit.

“I don’t understand…” He said, examining Dean’s petulant glare.

“Nah, didn’t think you would. What’s the reason you floated down here anyway?” Dean stepped back and sat at the end of one of the hotel room beds.

“I came to inform you and Sam that another requires my assistance, I’m to be sent to help someone who is as lost as you were when I came for you. I shall remedy it.” 

Dean nodded his understanding. 

“So uh, how long is this good will mission gonna take?” He asked, clearing his throat.

“It will take however long the problem will take to heal, Dean. You cannot rush orders meant to release those who are in agony of their own being.” Castiel said with a not-so-subtle hint of seniority. Dean made a face and leaned back.

“Wow, must be pretty important. What if humpty-dumpty takes longer than you thought and Sam and I need your help for some big bad?” 

“Than you will have to solve it yourselves. Eventually you and your brother will have to find a way to do your job without my assistance.” Cas added a little testily. 

Just then Dean’s phone buzzed against the desk and he reached over to find Sam’s name on the screen. 

“What is it Sam? I told you to get pie not- dammit Sammy... Fine. Oh yeah, Mother came by to tell us she’s leaving for a few days.” Dean glanced at Cas with a smirk. “Something about a – What was it again Cas?” 

“A tortured soul who is in need of –“ 

“Yeah, yeah. Some guy who needs his head examined.” Dean summarized, accompanied with a wave of his hand. 

The angel sighed and took a last glance at Dean as he vanished from the hotel room to help yet another wayward son. 

~

The floor of the woods was wet and cold making a strange noise as Castiel trudged along the towering fir trees. 

He arrived someplace where the cold made your breath turn to smoke and your cheeks red. At least at night. If it wasn’t for him being an angel, Castiel would have a hard time walking through the darkened woods, but thankfully he was able to see through the black veil before him. 

He heard a cry from his left, something between a wail and groan. Loud enough to catch his attention but obscure so that it could be brushed off as a settling of the tress. 

Then it happened again and Castiel was rushing toward the direction of the sound. Bypassing protruding roots and on one occasion, a lone bat intent on flying in front of him. 

As he reached a small hill he saw the beginnings of an old house which was settled into the glen ahead of him. The sound reached his ears once more and this time it was obvious the origin was in the house. 

The house’s doorknob was eroded and without the use of his angelic powers, Castiel wouldn’t have been able to observe the tattered entry and kneel down next to a crumpled figure by the stair way. 

The man’s noises sounded painful, and as Cas pulled him from his side to lay on his back, the angel saw the cause. Three   
long gashes were located running along from his collar bone to his lower abdomen; gushing blood. 

As he was about to heal him, another man, younger and frantic came flying into the room with a cell phone on one hand and a bundle of cloth in the other. 

The newcomer stopped in his tracks as he noticed Castiel leaning over the injured man, Castiel turned his head just enough to take in the appearance of the younger man. 

Where the other man’s hands once held bandages they were now grasping the injured man’s sides. Attempting to revive him, and push away Castiel at the same time. 

“I’m here to help, Stiles.” Castiel said steadily, placing a reassuring hand on his shaking arms. Stiles’s mouth hung open and stammered as if he was trying to form words. 

The angel continued with his work, placing a hand on the bloody forehead of the man on the floor. He closed his eyes as if to concentrate, but nothing happened. The injury was still bleeding and Castiel looked perturbed. 

“How do you know my name?” Stiles voice carried over hoarse and scared, “who are you?” 

“You called me, for assistance.” Castiel responded with his brow furrowed. 

“What? I didn’t call anybody-“ 

“You prayed to me Stiles.” The angel stood and took a step forward , causing Stiles to stumble backwards and into a chair, shaking his head. 

“I…I asked for-" 

“You understanding of my existence is going to waste valuable time, what’s wrong with this man?” Castiel asked abruptly, realizing that he’d need to divulge more for Stiles to tell him what he wanted. “How was he hurt, Stiles?” 

The second mention of his name shook Stiles out of his daze and he looked up, wiping sweat from his temple. 

“He uh… another werewolf, Peter, he turned on him.” 

“This man is a werewolf?”

“Yeah, I thought you knew since I called you and all.” Stiles stared at the stranger as he bent down again over the injured man. 

“So that’s why he isn’t responding to my efforts of healing, he’s a spawn of demons.”

“Hey!” Stiles interjected, recovering from the effects of being in the presence of an angel of God. 

“I can’t help him, at least not in conventional ways.”

“Wait, your conventional or my conventional ‘cause I think those are two different definitions.” Stiles said. 

“Both. We need to call on somebody more powerful.” Castiel sighed, looked around the decrepit house and walked into the room on his left, to what appeared to be a library. 

In it, was a large array of bookshelves and as the focus of the room, a fireplace. Stiles followed him.

“Look man, I don’t know what you’re doing or who you think you are… hell I don’t know what you think you are, but I’ve got a dying friend out there who needs to get to the hospital.” He stumbled into the room to find Cas searching the bookshelves. 

“It’s not here is it?” Castiel mumbled. Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and glared.

“What’s are you looking for?” 

Castiel stopped his search and stared at Stiles with his brows furrowed again.

“The amulet of Hured, it was left in this house at the turn of the century by Figaro-“ Stiles held up his hand as a signal for Cas to stop speaking.

“The what of who? Okay, look dude this has been a blast, really, but I’ve got to take care of my friend out there. So if you don’t mind flying off into whatever hole in the wall you came in...” 

He forced a smile and started to leave, but instead of leaving the angel behind him, he found himself face to face with angelic annoyance. 

“I was called upon to help, by you. I left people I was supposed to watch because of you. If you want that abomination to live, you will help me find the amulet.” Cas growled through his teeth. 

Stiles laughed nervously and patted Castiel’s shoulder awkwardly as if trying to calm him down.

“Okay, boss man. Let’s try to find that necklace.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I took artistic license with Cas's ability to call a crossroads demon the way he did, I think/hope it works.)

After searching for the amulet for half an hour with no success, Stiles tapped Castiel on the shoulder and pointed to the man called Derek.

“What do you propose we do now hot shot? Derek’s not gonna make it much longer and we still haven’t found your beauty piece yet.”

Castiel sighed, “somebody must have stolen it, is there some place that’s safe where we can take him?” 

“Yeah, we can take him to Scott’s, his mom is out of town.” 

As soon as Stiles finished his sentence, he felt a gripping sensation in his lower gut. When he looked up, he found himself in the middle of the McCall’s living room with a bleeding Derek on the couch. Castiel went in search for something without so much as another word. 

“Stiles? What’s going on, why is there a bleeding man on-- is that Derek?” Scott’s concerned voice floated over from the staircase. Behind him, Allison was staring at the stranger in the kitchen, who was throwing around cutlery and seasonings. 

“And why is there a hot Columbo in the kitchen?” She asked. 

Stiles looked around the scene, trying to think of a reasonable excuse to fling at his friends. Since none came, he stood there with his mouth gaping until Castiel emerged from the kitchen with a bowl in his arms. 

“This creature is hurt; I’ve come to offer my assistance.” He grumbled as if in after thought to the couple on the staircase. He placed the bowl on a coffee table in front of the couch as Scott and Allison descended the stairs cautiously. 

“You’ll need to be quiet; the demon summoning won’t work unless there are no interruptions.” He said as he pulled a knife from his pocket and drew blood from his palm into the bowl. 

“The WHAT?” Scott shrieked, he walked in front of Cas and held up a hand as if to stop him. Stiles grabbed his shoulders and led him to the side of the room. 

“It’s okay Scott I uh… I called him down.” He said reassuringly, patting Scott’s arm. The irritated Scott slapped his hand away. 

“Stiles! You can’t just call random men to my house!”

“Do you see Derek?! He’s been hurt and apparently not even angel juju can help him.” Stiles explained wiping sweat from his forehead.

“Wait, he’s an angel?” Scott asked, pointing to Castiel. Stiles nodded in answer. “You know, I’m actually not surprised anymore.” 

“I believe your friend made a deal with a crossroads demon. He’s sold his soul and was attacked by a Hellhound, that’s why I can’t heal him.” Castiel said to the room of onlookers. 

“Why would he sell his soul?” Allison asked, taking a step to the couch and peering down at Derek’s pale form. Castiel placed the bowl on the coffee table. 

“Stiles what did you actually see when Derek was attacked?” Castiel asked. The other man took his time to remember what he saw.

“I…I thought it was Peter, but I don’t know, I saw Derek’s chest being ripped open. Isn’t that enough?” Stiles kept stealing glances at Derek, as if he was going to burst into flames at any moment.

“You saw a Hellhound retrieving his soul.” Cas said unperturbed. “The ten year waiting period must be over, if I summon a cross roads demon-“ 

“Don’t you have to, you know, be at a cross roads for that?” Stiles asked. Cas gave him a withering glare. 

“I’m an angel of the Lord; I can bypass some of the unnecessary rituals.”

“I need a drink.” Scott remarked, as he left the room. Allison followed him with an awkward smile at Castiel. The angel chanted something in Latin and all fell silent. Even Derek’s hoarse breathing stilled for a moment. The room went dark, and a man wearing an expensive suit appeared behind the couch. 

“Hello sweetie.” 

Castiel sighed at the typical demonic attitude. 

“Why did Derek Hale sell his soul?” 

“I can’t tell you that, patient privilege after all. You know how it works, Castiella.” 

“Don’t play games with me, tell us what you know.”

“Make me.” The demon said with a sly smile just as Stiles shoved Cas out of the way.

“TELL US ALL YOU KNOW OR SO HELP ME!” He shouted. The angel placed a hand on his shoulder and applied enough pressure to tell him he’d handle it. Stiles took a few deep breaths and let Castiel walk in front of him. 

“Since when do over emotional teenagers speak for angels?” The demon asked, repositioning his cuff links. Stiles threw him an angry glare.

“Oh, all right; if you’re going to pout at me.” The cross roads demon sighed exaggeratedly. “But only because I’m a nice guy.”

Stiles mumbled something under his breath about how that wasn’t true and Derek moaned painfully, alerting them to the urgency of the situation. 

“He wanted to turn into the little chia pet he is, not an original request but-“ the demon was interrupted by Stiles’ surprised voice. 

“He wanted to be werewolf?” 

The demon chuckled, “well, at the time he did. Said he wanted strength enough to avenge somebody, you know, the normal trash that comes out of the mouths of pitiful people.”

Castiel sent him a warning glance which made him continue.  
“His sister was hurt or something and he wanted to protect her from other werewolves who were attacking her, a disgustingly valiant act. He protected her in the long run but it had a high cost, as you can tell.” He gestured to the injured man on the couch. 

“Give him back his soul.” Castiel said, taking out an intimidating knife from his trench coat. The demon threw up his hands in admission. 

“Hey I would if I could but once a deal is struck you can’t go back, it’s the first lesson in Demoning 101.” 

“There has to be a way to protect him from the Hellhound, even if it means not getting his soul back.” Stiles said, leaning over Derek and checking his wound. He let out a defeated sigh as he saw the darkened blood seep through his clothes. He applied more pressure to hopefully stall the inevitable, grabbing a throw pillow and pressing it roughly onto the tears in his flesh. “C’mon Cas, please do something.” He pleaded, his hands now soaked in blood. 

“Oh I love this,” the demon announced, crossing his arms over his chest and striking a defiant pose. “The two lovers separated by the netherworld and the earthly dominion. I think I saw the same story line on a soap opera once.”

“What?! We’re not- Derek and I- there’s not a thing going on between us!” Stiles stammered as he blushed. 

“Okay, my bad. It’s just kind of obvious that’s all.”

“Just shut up and fix him!” Stiles yelled. 

Castiel stepped forward, grabbing the demon by his collar and pressed the knife against his throat; catching him off guard made a better effect than bargaining with him. The angel could see fear in his eyes.

“WOAH! Sheesh, okay I can pull a few strings and see if I can get the hell hound off him for a while. I can’t make any promises-“ 

Castiel pressed the weapon closer to indicate that that was the wrong thing to say. 

“FINE. just let me go and I’ll handle it!” He begged. 

Cas loosened his grip and allowed the demon to disappear. 

“So how do we know he’s gonna do what he says he is?” Stiles asked.   
“The hell hound won’t kill your friend.” Castiel answered bluntly. Stile’s nodded and checked on the wound, it was still bleeding and showed no signs of stopping. 

“Can we take him to a hospital now?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was supposed to be finished early Sunday but then the Teen Wolf premier happened and yeah... anyway, hopefully I made up for it with lots of feels in the final chapter. Thanks so much for the comments and kudos!

The constant beep of the machine by Derek’s head was the only thing keeping Stiles awake, that and the steaming cup of coffee balanced in his hand. 

Derek’s face was bruised and there was a deep scratch that barely missed his eye, but the real damage was his bandaged torso. The doctor’s face was grim but his words were hopeful, telling them that his recovery would be slow but as long as he stayed in bed and kept the wound clean it’d be successful. 

There wasn’t any sign of the hellhound or the cross roads demon, but Castiel still transported them safely to the hospital himself; as much as Scott was uncomfortable with it. Allison called her father and told him she’d be late studying at a friend’s house, she patted Stiles’ on the shoulder consolingly when approaching Derek’s bed. 

“I’m sure he’s gonna make a quick recovery, Stiles. If anybody can kick a Hellhound in the butt it’s Derek right?” 

Stiles smirked and nodded, he knew she was trying to make him feel better; the annoying part was that it was working.  
Allison looked at the dialyses machine by the sick man’s head, sighed and squeezed his hand softly in comfort. 

“I know you two are special to each other, it’s hard to miss actually.” She laughed softly at the blush creeping up on Stiles’s face again. “I also know that Derek isn’t exactly the best person to open up to. My father is kind of the same way though, and as soon as Derek feels safe enough in a relationship, he’ll let you know what you mean to him.” 

Stiles nodded, tears welling up in his eyes. He was too tired to reply, or even to try and deny the fact that Derek was special to him. Allison was right; it was like getting blood from a rock when trying to get Derek to open up. He’d roll his eyes or send back a snide comment, but there was something deeper behind the harshness, something like bitterness as if someone from his past hurt Derek enough to colour his opinion of relationships altogether. 

Stiles didn’t know the whole story, he might never know, but Derek was important and he wasn’t going to let what they have, as little as that was, go to waste. 

“How’s he doing?” Scott walked in with Castiel following behind. 

“I think I saw his finger twitch an hour ago, other than that he’s been sleeping soundly.” Stiles responded. He stood up and grabbed Cas’s shoulder, leading him away from the group and outside into the hallway. The angel frowned at his abruptness. 

“Look uh… angel, if you heard me when I called you then you heard all the other stuff I said too; all that about my… feelings. So you know that if he dies-" Stiles was cut short by Castiel’s hand on his shoulder.

“He’s not going to die Stiles, at least not yet. There are plans for him, I can’t tell you everything and even I don’t know what his future holds, but with the care that you and your friends give to him, I know that he’s thankful he’s not alone.” Stiles sensed that Cas was speaking from experience. 

“Oh, well okay then. Thanks for uh… all the angel magic-"

“We don’t use magic. It’s called divine grace” Cas interjected testily. 

“Right, of course, I knew that. Anyway, it was appreciated.” Stiles held out his hand to the angel, waiting for him to take it. Nothing happened and Stiles looked up to find empty space in front of him. 

“I’m definitely not gonna miss that.” Stiles said to the empty space. He walked back to the room and found a familiar form stirring.

“Derek? Oh my gosh, you’re awake! Wait, how are you awake?” 

The bedraggled man gave a slight smirk that looked painful for him. 

“The man’s an enigma! Allison says that his recovery is because of his werewolf powers, but I think it’s his magically distributed facial hair.” Scott smiled as Allison chuckled and shook her head. 

“Alright Scott, I’m sure Derek doesn’t want to hear your attempt at humour so early in his recovery process. We deserve some coffee; I think I saw some in the lobby.” Allison grabbed Scott’s arm and led him out, winking to Stiles as she left. 

A raspy cough came out of Derek; he looked at Stiles with bloodshot eyes that somehow encompassed sadness and admiration unanimously. 

“Scott told me what happened, you know, after the Hellhound attacked me. He told me about how you asked for help and about the angel. I just…” Derek’s voice wavered.

“Derek, you don’t have to say anything.” Stiles interrupted. “I know how things are with us, it’s not easy. I mean, in the ice cream world, you’re rocky road and I’m chocolate chip. You’re a big ball of muscle-y sulkiness and I’m made up of sarcasm and a basically non-existent pain threshold. It may not be the most ideal match but some of the best couples have been different from each other, that’s what makes each day so valuable. Every day there’s something new to find out, a different way of looking at things and feeling. And it’s something I wouldn’t give up for anything.” 

Derek sighed, he looked uncomfortable and Stiles would have been scared he said too much if it wasn’t for the tear running down his bruised cheek. He grabbed Derek’s hand in his and wiped his cheek dry, caressing his jaw. 

Stile’s fear was still there though, always with him, that what they had was too difficult. That they couldn’t deal with either the supernatural elements of it or the difference in what they wanted, Derek always felt the need to protect and Stiles was the one who opened up and always felt gaping when Derek couldn’t give back with his feelings. 

Stiles slowly grew to understand that he needed to value the uncertainty in Derek’s personality, even if it hurt. Because if he didn’t, he could lose one of the best things he ever had. 

Even with that fear still lingering in the back of his mind, Stiles couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as Derek leaned into his hand and kissed his palm softly. 

~

The hotel room was pitch black and silent. Castiel approached the chair by Dean’s bed and sat down with a worn out sigh. He would have to watch how the issue progressed and keep an eye out for the cross roads demon, even if he felt that his threat worked, it would be an amateur move to trust a demon. 

Dean re-positioned himself in his sheets, and somehow found a way to get comfortable by flinging his left leg over the side of the bed and his right arm tucked under his chest. 

Castiel was so amused at the man’s satisfied hum and absurd position that he didn’t hear when Sam sat up. 

“Castiel? What’s wrong?” He mumbled with a half awake voice, running a hand through unkempt hair to push it from his eyes. 

“Nothing is wrong, Sam. My mission was completed successfully; all lives are safe, at least for now.” He responded in a half tone quieter than what he would have normally used, keeping in mind the snoring Winchester in the nearest bed. 

Sam nodded and flung his upper-half back into bed, mumbling something along the lines of “ah good, I love happy endings” into his pillow.


End file.
